Lily Nightflight
by The Written One
Summary: "Why was she always so on edge? She glared at the potions teacher through the narrowed slits of her eyelids, seething at the woman's every move. SHE was why. As incredible as it was to finally meet Constance Hardbroom, it was hard not to be angry with the woman that indirectly made her life a living hell. " CHAPTER 2 IS UP!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well, I'm back! I've been on FanFiction for over 10 years, and I used to write stories way back when. But this is my first fic in a very long time, and I'm hoping my writing has improved since then! I apologize for previous unfinished fics, but I do plan on finishing this one, then perhaps going back and scrubbing up my old writings from a younger version of myself.**

**Please, please, PLEASE leave your reviews, comments and critiques—I'd love to hear them! I'm aware similar plotlines have been toyed with, but I'm hoping mine still has the capacity to entertain. **

**Thanks for reading :)**

**-TWO**

* * *

_She knew, any moment now, that her soaring body, hurtling backwards through the air, would meet the concrete wall; the sickening smack of breaking bones would be the last sound she'd ever hear._

_Yet, the impact never came. She felt her surroundings melt away as she flew past the wall, into whatever the world determined for her as "safety."_

_Her body hit the ground hard as she used the last of her energy to materialise away from her nightmares, to a dark and secluded spot deep in the forest. _

_Lily Nightflight was knocked unconscious._

* * *

Something brushing against her cheek caused the girl to finally stir, hours after she'd landed in the middle of the pitch-black wood. Lily Nightflight's chocolate brown eyes snapped open to meet a small bird pecking the ground near her face. She blinked. Her mind swirled, memories of the previous day trying desperately to piece themselves together. From what she could tell, it was early morning, just after sunrise. She laid in a somewhat twisted position, her ebony hair splayed around her head; a light layer of dew covered her badly beaten body.

She was injured, though how seriously she could only determine by trying to move. She attempted to sit up and almost fell over from the rush of dizziness that overcame her. Every limb cried out in agony; she heard from muscles she hadn't even known existed. With a small whimper, the girl shifted her weight to her elbows and managed to prop herself up on them. The worst pain seemed to be radiating from the small of her back, she guessed that was the point of impact, and a sharp throbbing from the deep cut on her arm reminded her it needed care. She took a deep breath through her nose and felt a wave of dizzying nausea—nature's fresh air assaulted her senses; she was so unused to being out in the open. Finally coming to her senses, she surveyed the serene scene around her.

Somehow the chirping birds and frolicking squirrels didn't sit right with the last memories that were beginning to clear in the back of her mind. She winced in pain again and rolled up her crimson-stained sleeve to reveal a gash running from inside her elbow to right below her wrist.

Right, now she was starting to remember. The fight was intense, she was sure those few moments would be her last ones ever. The raging woman had thrown her arms out and hit her with something powerful-a direct hit, square in the chest. As she flew with frightening speed toward the concrete wall behind her, she knew she was experiencing her final moments. Her body hurtled through the air; she squeezed her eyes closed and summoned a power from deep within—a power she never knew she possessed. Lily Nightflight commanded every fibre of her being to dematerialise, thinking only of 'safety' as her destination.

And it seemed that she ended up... in…?

She squinted at her surroundings, wondering how safe she actually was in the middle of what seemed like... well, nowhere. But she wasn't afraid; anywhere was certainly safer than somewhere _she_ could be. Even if it was… _nowhere_. Lily pulled herself to her feet and brushed off her tattered cloak, wincing as the gash on her arm protested to her movements.

She summoned a cloth saturated with water and dressed the wound, the cool liquid stinging its edges. She tied the cloth tightly, praying the pressure would staunch the scarlet flow. Almost in a daze, she froze to a sudden halt as the far away remnants of laughter and crunching twigs entered her earshot. Backing up against the nearest tree trunk, she folded her arms, closed her eyes and drew in a sharp breath. Her spell casting fingers extended, and she felt the invisible shield envelope her body. Knowing she was completely out of sight, she allowed herself to relax slightly, waiting to see who was coming up the path.

Two young girls approached, giggling and chatting amongst themselves. Lily held her breath. Both girls carried a broomstick in one hand and a suitcase in the other. They wore matching hats, dresses, shirts and purple sashes. From what she could deduce, the garb seemed to be a school uniform. The two continued their discussion, oblivious to Lily as they walked by her. She let out a sigh of relief, straining to hear part of their conversation.

"Are you nervous then?" One girl asked the other.

"A bit I guess. I hear Miss Cackle is really nice, though."

"I wonder if we'll be in any of the same classes..."

And then their voices faded away. Lily sat down slowly, leaning on the tree trunk for support. So, the girls were off to school. A school with a nice teacher named Miss Cackle. Perhaps where there was a nice teacher there was safety. Lily pondered this for a moment, then shrank back as she heard more voices. Another pair of young witches approached, chatting excitedly.

"We're going to get our cats today!"

"I know! I've already been trying to come up with the perfect name for mine."

Behind them, Lily could make out quite a few similarly uniformed girls, all of them about her age. This had to be safety; she just needed to be able to blend in. She studied each girl's uniform as she walked by, and after seeing it for the seventh time, she was pretty sure she could replicate it.

Lily waited for the last of the recent group to disappear behind some far away trees. She extended her spell casting fingers and smiled as the familiar rush of magic escaped from her fingertips. As the tingling sensation wore off, she looked down to admire her handiwork. She was wearing a uniform identical to the girls' she had seen, right down to the pointed black hat with its striped gray ribbon. She stood up, ignoring the throbbing protest under her sleeve as she flexed her fingers and summoned her broomstick. The girl smoothed her dress and made sure her appearance was neat before she allowed herself to become visible again. Taking a deep breath, she began to walk in the direction the other girls had, not entirely sure of her plan. She had only taken a few steps when she heard someone call out behind her.

"Hey!"

Lily pivoted to see a blonde uniformed girl running toward her. Her heart quickened as her eyes shot around nervously, trying to eye the best escape route… just in case.

The girl caught up to her, panting as she tried to catch her breath. "You're on your way to Cackle's, right?" She asked.

"Er... yes." Lily answered hesitantly. Her voice cracked slightly—they were the first words she'd spoken in hours.

"Oh, do you mind if I follow you? I'm not exactly sure where to go." She said, readjusting the grip on her luggage.

"Erm... not at all." Lily managed weakly, hoping she wasn't already paving the way for trouble. She trekked on in the same direction she'd seen the others go in, hoping there'd be some sort of signage up ahead.

The two walked in silence for a few moments until the blonde one spoke up, "I'm sorry, that was rather rude of me, my name's Maud Moonshine." The girl said, her bunches bouncing as she walked.

"Lily Nightflight." She answered simply.

"It's nice to meet another first year. Are you nervous?" The girl eyed her curiously.

Lily scowled-she had never had a proper conversation with someone-let alone a girl her age, and it was making her extremely uncomfortable. She noticed the other girl's wary expression and forced herself to display a small smile. She racked her brain, trying to remember the conversation she had heard earlier. "A bit I guess. I hear Miss Cackle is really nice, though." She repeated robotically. She watched the girl's face flood with relief.

"Oh good." The walk continued with a few moments of silence before the blonde one spoke again. "Don't you have any luggage?" She asked, eyeing the girl's empty hand.

Lily mentally hit herself-she'd forgotten a very obvious prop. "I sent it up earlier." She said quickly.

After that, the conversation stopped, and Lily wondered if she had scared the girl off. But a quick glance to her left made her realise the other girl was staring straight ahead. Lily turned to see the majestic castle appearing on the horizon, its wrought iron gates only a few paces away.

Lily felt her heart begin to pound. Was this really such a brilliant idea? How was she going to enroll in a school and still stay hidden? She bit her lip as she tried to work out some sort of solution.

The two girls approached Walker's Gate and stood outside, joining the large swarm of identically dressed students who'd already arrived. Above them, dozens of girls flew over the gate on their broomsticks, slowly descending to land in the courtyard. Wondering if she should have flown in on her broom, she realised the flying girls wore sashes of other colours -yellow, green, red... but only the walking girls wore purple. Curious as to what was going on, her musings were halted by a creaking of the gate, slowly making its way open to allow them inside. The girls shuffled in slowly, heads turning in all directions, taking in the sights of their first journey through the gateway. The rest of the student body stood waiting, breaking out in a teasing rhyme about learning how to fly. So these purple-sashed girls couldn't fly. Lily thought about that curiously, she could fly for as long as she could remember, and it was almost unnerving that such a large group of girls her age could boast no one in a similar situation.

Except... suddenly a young girl flew through the gate, holding her head up proudly. A purple-sasher. Lily pondered if she should have done the same, until she noticed the enormous amount of attention the girl was deliberately drawing to herself. The last thing Lily wanted was for anyone to pay more than a moment's worth of attention to her. The girl landed right beside Lily, her haughty nose pointed up, obviously quite pleased with herself. Lily didn't even glance in her direction.

The girls conversed amongst themselves and Lily took the time to survey the scene around her, sort through whatever information she'd gathered this far, and plan her next move. So, she was in the youngest year of the group, the year that couldn't fly and was going to get their cats. This was the nice teacher Miss Cackle's school, a school where you stayed for an extended period of time, based on the amount the girls had packed, and… that seemed to sum up all she could figure out. The chatty ambiance died down suddenly, and Lily noticed two adults standing in the archway of the entrance to the castle. The pair of women seemed direct opposites of each other: the older one stood short and stout, with gray hair and spectacles, and a smile on her face. The other, considerably younger, but not too young, stood tall and thin, arms folded over her chest, her ebony hair scraped into the tightest bun. She expressed no emotion, her narrowed eyes scanning the group of girls. The two women stepped forward to address the crowd.

The gray-haired woman spoke first. "Welcome girls, to your first year at Cackle's Academy." She smiled proudly. "I am Miss Amelia Cackle, your Headmistress." The nice one. The woman gestured over to the younger witch to her left. "And this is my Deputy Headmistress, Miss Constance Hardbroom."

_Miss Constance Hardbroom... Constance Hardbroom... Hardbroom... Hardbroom…_

The name seemed to echo, repeating itself over and over in her brain. Nothing could prepare Lily for the complete shock that went through her body at the mention of that name. Her eyes grew wider than ever before, her jaw dropped, and she felt almost as though she couldn't breathe. A chill ran down her back as she struggled not to faint. Could it really be? Could this woman really be _the_ Constance Hardbroom? She noticed the rest of the group also chatted excitedly, obviously hearing of her before as well, but probably not in the same way Lily had.

You see, to Lily Nightflight, Constance Hardbroom was the ultimate goal. When she was under Mistress Broomhead's tutelage, she was constantly being compared to the woman's former protégé. Constance would have done this... Constance was impeccable at that... her entire life was practically devoted to emulating Constance Hardbroom, who was, until this very moment, a woman she'd only ever known of through the descriptions of her accomplishments. And if she ever failed to meet or exceed those accomplishments, she would be severely punished.

Lily came back to the present and surveyed the tall woman in front of her, scanning her from top to bottom, trying to finally finish the mental image of the woman that moulded her life. She shuddered. Could this possibly be safety? Lily found herself wondering again. Right under the nose of... _Constance Hardbroom_?

"Quiet." The woman spoke for the first time, her voice ringing out strongly and silencing the girls. Lily noticed the resemblance to Mistress Broomhead's clipped tones immediately. "Apparently many of you seem to have heard of me." The corner of her mouth raised in a sarcastic smirk. "Do be aware that a lot of what you have heard is most probably one hundred percent true." At this she noticed some girls gasp and stiffen. Lily wondered what they had heard. "That being said, absolutely no nonsense will be tolerated at this institution. With your permission, headmistress, I will now begin the roll call."

Miss Cackle gave a nod as Miss Hardbroom pulled out a clipboard with the attendance list written on it and began to read off the names... "Millicent Applebell."

A young girl from the crowd piped up "Present, Miss Hardbroom."

"Bella Bergtrot."

"Present, Miss Hardbroom."

Lily realised her name needed to be on that list. She stole a glance around, making sure no one was looking, and moved her hands behind her back. With a quick flick of her wrist, she added her name to the roster.

"Harriet Goodcharm"

"Present, Miss Hardbroom."

"Ethel Hallow"

"Present, Miss Hardbroom"

Lily scowled at the girl who'd showed off her flying earlier, and was horrified to see Miss Hardbroom smiling approvingly in her direction. Surely someone as knowledgeable as the great Constance Hardbroom wouldn't fall for such haughtiness?

"Mildred Hubble" Miss Hardbroom called out. No one responded.

"Anyone seen Mildred Hubble?" Miss Cackle asked. The girls were silent. _Poor girl_, thought Lily, _must've been locked out_.

"Miss Cackle, would you care to finish the roll call?" Miss Hardbroom turned over the clipboard to the headmistress, eyes darting around in search of the missing pupil. The girls relaxed slightly as the floor was given over to the nice one again.

"Of course, Constance. Maud Moonshine?"

"Present, Miss Cackle."

"Lily... Nightflight?" Miss Cackle questioned the entry, raising her half-moon spectacles and squinting to make sure she'd read it right. For some reason, the name hadn't rung a bell, but there it was, written plain as day in her own handwriting.

"Present, Miss Cackle," Lily spoke up. Miss Cackle shrugged and proceeded down the rest of the list.

The rest of the proceedings were a blur to Lily, she stood staring at Constance the rest of the time. Constance. Hardbroom. The girl who's parents had an met an unfortunate and untimely demise when she was just 16 years old. The girl who Mistress Broomhead had taken in as her own, before Lily arrived to replace her. The girl who'd succeeded in becoming Mistress Broomhead's "most talented, powerful charge to date." The girl who "disappeared, never to be heard from again." Lily smiled to herself—it felt surreal, as if she should ask the woman for an autograph or something. Constance Hardbroom was _real_. And she was standing _right in front of her_. And she was… speaking. Lily tuned in just in time to hear Constance berating a girl with messy plaits and undone bootlaces.

"….punctuality at all times! That is if they intend to stay enrolled at this establishment." She narrowed her eyes at the girl quivering in front of her.

The girl identified as Maud went over to comfort the quaking girl. "It's alright, Mildred." She whispered. _Mildred Hubble_, Lily mused,_ the one who was late._

Lily looked over at Mildred, her bootlaces undone, her uniform unkempt, her face stained with tears, crying and shivering—a complete mess. Lily gave a small, sad smile. She couldn't blame the poor girl for being so afraid—Constance Hardbroom was the most frightening woman ever.

That is, she _seemed_ to be the most frightening woman ever… to someone who'd never personally met Mistress Hecketty Broomhead.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's the beginning... what do you think? I already have some more written, so I'd love to post it if anyone is interested ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for all of the lovely reviews! Sorry for the delay, I had to piece together a bunch of already-written material, I hope it flows well. PLEASE post your comments and reviews, it means the WORLD to me! Thank you!**

* * *

Lily sat perfectly still in the great hall, so still, you'd think she was frozen in time. She watched the girls her age interacting with each other, giggling, and carefree. She'd never seen anything like it, and couldn't help feeling like they would get into trouble. Surely one couldn't giggle without consequence? But Lily was a bright girl; she knew the way she'd been raised was wrong. She recognised the scene in front of her was one of… normalcy. And she felt happy for the girls, who would never know otherwise.

Miss Cackle cleared her throat and the talking quieted down. Each teacher stood to speak, and the girls rose for the chanting of the school song. Afterwards, Miss Cackle spoke about the history of the school, and some long lineage that barely held Lily's interest. The assembly was a lengthy and presumably boring one—Lily hadn't paid much attention, as she spent most of the programme staring at Constance again. From time to time the teacher would notice her gaze and glare back at her, and Lily would allow her eyes to travel elsewhere, suppressing a smirk of satisfaction.

Lily grew bored after a while, and though her ramrod-straight posture didn't falter, she found herself zoning into other girl's thoughts.

She'd been doing it for quite some time now; it had probably been at least a year since she'd learned how. Hecketty had made sure her newest charge had all the capabilities of her old one, including psychic and telekinetic abilities.

She would stretch out her mind, wait for it to quiet, and would pick up any particularly loud thoughts. She wouldn't dare prod, she'd only take information that was "called out", things people thought of freely. It was a surprisingly calming exercise to do—it required minimal energy—and it allowed her mind to relax. At the moment, most of the girls were thinking about getting their cats. She heard a sporadic recitation of names, cat names from the sound of it… but somewhere in the distance a more solemn voice caught her attention. She blocked out the rest of the room to a low hum and focused on her recent find.

_Can't I keep a cat, Mistress Broomhead?_

Lily froze as her eyes shot to the source of the voice—her deputy headmistress sat still and straight on a chair onstage. She looked as though she was listening to Miss Cackle, but her thoughts revealed otherwise.

_Cats are neither use nor ornament! _

Lily's heart jumped at the voice of her former tutor, her eyes darting around the room frantically. Hecketty's voice rang out with such clarity from the musings in Miss Hardbroom's mind, that Lily almost thought the woman was in the room with her. But the voice came from Constance's thoughts, as she remembered a scene Lily knew all too well.

_A waste of time, a distraction, a false sense of security. _Hecketty's voice continued._ They cause young witches to feel calm and content when they should feel on the alert!_

_Yes, Mistress Broomhead_. The teenaged Constance voice replied sadly. Lily watched as Miss Hardbroom's eyes narrowed and lips pursed ever so slightly. Then, Miss Cackle's voice echoed from Miss Hardbroom's thoughts—she was paying attention to the assembly again, so Lily figured she might as well do the same, and broke off her connection.

"And now, girls, we'd like to present you with your cats." Miss Cackle smiled warmly, her gray eyes creasing in the corners. The girls talked excitedly as Miss Hardbroom rose and approached a large basket toward the back of the stage.

_Wow. To get a proper witch's cat! _Lily mused. She found herself overcome with an alien emotion—one that she hadn't felt for as long as she could remember. It frightened her slightly, but it also felt... rather good. Was this… _excitement_? She looked up at the stage again where Miss Cackle began to call the girls up to claim their cats. Her heart leaped, and she could swear she felt a tingle. Was she looking forward to something? She hadn't even thought that was still possible. But as she saw each girl walk back to her seat with her brand new tiny ball of fur, she actually smiled. Lily Nightflight was _excited_.

Something dawned on Lily then: there would only be 23 cats in the basket. Miss Cackle had only planned for 23 first years to attend this term… but Lily was number 24. Wondering whether it was riskier to be caught using magic or be caught without a cat, she decided on the latter. She concentrated on the image of a kitten and flicked her wrist, hoping the animal had made it safely into the basket onstage.

The teachers called each girl onstage one by one to claim their kittens, but as Miss Cackle pulled out each one, Lily realised she'd made an obvious mistake: each cat was the purest black she'd ever seen, but the one she'd had in her mind was grey with stripes. _Of course, a witch's cat should be black_, she realised, mentally hitting herself. She couldn't change it, as Miss Cackle was peering into the basket again. She prayed the odd kitten wouldn't fall into her own hands and raise suspicions.

"Lily Nightflight," Miss Cackle called out. Nerves aside, Lily grew eager as she sheepishly approached the stage to receive her kitten. Much like Miss Hardbroom, she'd always longed for a cat, but was never allowed to have one.

As the soft, fragile creature landed in her outstretched hands, Lily felt another emotion, this one strong and warm, where her heart opened up to the point where she swore she'd do anything for the tiny thing. What was this feeling? Care? Love? Whatever it was, it was amazing, and she wanted to hold onto it forever. She nuzzled the kitten against her cheek and sat in her seat, racking her brain for a proper name to suit it.

Luckily, Mildred, the girl who was late, ended up with the tabby cat, which she so appropriately named Tabby. Lily almost felt like apologising to the girl for giving her a mistake, but it was too big a risk, and the girl seemed okay with her match anyway.

A few cats later, and the assembly was over. It passed with little incident, and Lily let out a sigh of relief. She returned to her room with No-Name and plopped onto her bed.

Being at Cackle's definitely took some getting used to.

During her first few days, she found it completely nerve-wracking to even associate with any of the girls—she was constantly paranoid she'd be found out. Lily spent all of her "free time" lying face up on her bed, staring at the ceiling, reminding herself that her breathing did not have to be inaudible. Reminding her galloping heart that no one would suddenly burst in and attack her. Reminding her racing thoughts that there was no immediate threat lurking around every corner.

She also found it rather difficult to pretend she was less skilled than she actually was. In spells class, she found Miss Cackle teaching skills Mistress Broomhead had beaten into her at the tender age of six. As for Constance's class, Lily had a natural knack for potions, but upon observation, most girls her age couldn't even complete simple ones, let alone know their ingredients by heart. She sighed, dumbing down her performance as each lesson went by.

After a few weeks of the act, Lily managed to figure out the "average" level of the girls her age, and stuck to it in each and every class she took, steadying herself a B average.

Although she mastered her academic façade, Lily still struggled with her social one, unable to overcome the abusive scars that cast her in a gloomy anti-social shadow. To her, everyone was a threat. Displaying any sort of emotion or sharing any personal information was dangerous—it could cause her to be found, and consequently handed over to her tormentor once again.

With this, she became quiet, reserved, and almost unnoticed. In fact, she'd passed through most of her first term at the school completely under the radar.

* * *

As golden leaves turned to bare trees, the stone-lined halls of Cackle's Academy got impossibly colder. It was late December now, and Lily anxiously anticipated the season's first snow, which had yet to come. When Lily was young, snow was a sign that her annual plans and dreams of escaping Mistress Broomhead would have to be put on hold, as freshly fallen snow revealed a lot about a person's travels. The year that all changed, though, was the year she learned to materialise. It was at seven, or was it eight? Eight. She was sure it was eight years of age, when her tutor had managed to teach her how. The task was incredibly draining, and at eight years old, it had taken months for the young girl to muster enough power and energy not to faint mid-transport, where she'd end up writhing in serious agony when she woke. She shuddered at the thought—retching violently for hours as her inner organs' molecules attempted to rearrange themselves, correcting the botched attempt. But after she'd mastered her transports, snow was no longer a threat, and she'd been able to find some sort of peace in its tranquil display.

Still, she looked out the window at the morning dawn creeping in, wondering if today it would come. It was early yet, perhaps later on in the day. In a few minutes, she knew the rest of the school would stir, rising to the ready for a new day of lessons. Lily wondered if anyone was awake yet, but as she stretched out her mind, she only met the distorted frequencies of disorganized dreams.

It seemed like she'd been staring out her window forever when the morning bell finally tolled, and she knew it was safe to emerge from her room. As she did everyday, she clutched her books to her chest, and walked with her eyes on the floor until she reached the potions lab, where she was the first to arrive. Sitting in her seat, she threw open a journal and began scribbling fiercely; she couldn't risk being available for conversation. Lily felt each girl's presence as they sauntered into the room, yet she kept her eyes firmly glued to her notebook until she felt the familiar molecular disturbance of her teacher's arrival, whereupon she stared at the spot she was about to appear.

And, as usual, the appearance had surprised the rest of her classmates, who quickly quieted down.

"Good morning, girls. I trust you've studied well?" Constance observed her students. The few faces of despair scattered about the room confirmed her suspicions that some had forgotten about the day's exam, but that was no one's fault but their own, and she sighed in response. "Well then, clear your tables." She double-pointed at the pile of freshly copied exams on her desk, and a copy appeared in front of each girl. Lily smiled; it was refreshing to be around someone who knew what she was doing. She quickly got to work, carefully pacing herself so she wouldn't appear to be finished before the others. Constance busied herself with a pile of essays on her desk, and the only noise in the room was the scritch-scratching of pencil on paper.

Constance looked up from her work, peering at the girls scribbling fiercely. Her eyes drifted from one girl to another, most seemed to be managing fine. Ethel was writing with more of an overzealous flourish, at which Constance scowled. As much as she appreciated a skilled student, sometimes the girl's haughtiness was nauseating. She scanned the rows of girls until her eyes landed on Mildred. She stifled a sigh as she thought of all the trouble the young pupil had managed to get herself into. She just hoped this would be one exam the girl would manage to pass.

She resumed her grading: B, C, B, C, C. She wondered why her students' work never seemed to impress her. Perhaps she hadn't been the wonderful teacher she thought she was. Perhaps Hecketty had been right. _Hecketty_. She shuddered at the name. As she wrote a bit of critique at the top of one of the essays, Constance allowed her mind to slip through gruesome memories of the time she spent as Hecketty Broomhead's charge. Abuse... neglect... power...

Constance froze, her pen mid-sentence, her mind mid-thought. Someone's gaze was boring into her—she could feel their eyes practically piercing her flesh. It almost felt as though the presence was in her mind—listening to her very thoughts. Her head snapped up to catch the perpetrator, but the feeling was gone, and all two-dozen first years were still looking down at their papers.

She had gotten the feeling in this class before—usually when her past made an unwelcome appearance at the front of her mind. She allowed herself only a few moments to dwell on it; she knew in the back of her mind that she was just being paranoid. Her eyes scanned the room, but she was satisfied that there were no invisible intruders lurking about.

"You have five minutes, girls." Her voice broke the silence, and she savoured those last few moments of time to herself, trying not to allow the past to resurface.

Lily read and reread question number 47 as she calmed her rapid pulse… Constance had almost seen her staring. Blast her darned paranoia! Why was she always so on edge? She glared at the potions teacher through the narrowed slits of her eyelids, seething at the woman's every move. _She_ was why. As incredible as it was to finally meet Constance Hardbroom, it was hard not to be angry with the woman that indirectly made her life a living hell. But as the teacher looked down at her papers, Lily felt her memories assault her mind once again. She was beginning to notice that Constance was a "loud thinker"… although an extremely private person, her thoughts constantly yelled out, reaching Lily's brain without the girl extending any extra effort to acquire them.

She even tried, on a few occasions, to block out the woman's disturbing memories, but she wasn't powerful enough. Constance was strong, and Lily was no match for the telepathic force that was drilling her brain-the only receptacle in the room that was capable of receiving it.

The hardest part of all of it wasn't watching the gruesome images; no, those were quite similar to her own memories of her time with Mistress Broomhead. The part she found most difficult was keeping her expression neutral, her face blank, as a young girl of 16 fought an emotionally draining battle through her own blood and tears. Each scene played out vividly before her eyes: the screams were ear-piercing and the magic was tangible. With each slap she wanted to wince—she felt that pain—and wished nothing more than to squeeze her eyes shut, but she was forced to remain silent, staring at her paper. Needless to say, after an hour-long exam full of replaying memories, Lily would leave class utterly exhausted.

* * *

After spending her next few classes recovering from the mental madness, Lily was quite relieved when lunch had finally rolled around. Although she always heard the girls complain, Lily was appreciative of every morsel that entered her mouth without consequence. She was also appreciative of the concept of a "study table", where the "bookish" girls would sit and use their lunch break to quietly review the day's materials. Conversations over this table were rare, and she didn't mind the extra reading she got done either.

Content with the mellow scene in the lunch hall, Constance used her shift rotation with Davina to run surprise room inspections. As much as she hated leaving the girls under Davina's "watchful eye", she was frustrated with the quality of her students' work lately and needed to find some reason for retribution. Swinging each girl's door open one by one, she studied the contents of each room. Each thing amiss would result in a penalty: unmade bed, items on floor, messy wardrobe, contraband.

Surprisingly, there weren't many infractions to be found. Constance frowned as she closed the door to yet another perfectly tidy room, wondering perhaps if someone had tipped the girls off. _Ahh, here we are_, she thought as she arrived at the next door._ Mildred Hubble_. Smiling, she pushed the door open and began to take notes.

* * *

Lily stood in queue, waiting to sample the day's menu. Suddenly, a sharp, vivid image pierced her mind. Though it disappeared as quickly as it came, Lily recognised the sensation she felt from it. She waited with bated breath, eyes staring, for it to happen again. A few moments later the vivid image flashed across her eyes again, this time she focused on it: something, or someone, was rifling through her belongings. Lily left her place on line, slowly making her way out of the great hall as not to attract any attention. There it was again—this time, she could clearly make out a hand, and the wardrobe in her bedroom. With a look of uncertainty, she ran to look for cover—finding the janitorial cupboard and closing herself inside. Folding her arms, spell-casting fingers out, she disappeared to catch the intruder.

* * *

Constance pushed the door open to Lily Nightflight's room. A quick glance-over proved nothing out of the ordinary. Bed made. Desk clear. Wardrobe... the girl's wardrobe door was open, and a small cardboard box lay on its side in front of it. It wasn't exactly an infraction, but Constance sighed as she went in to pick up the carton and return it to its proper place. The carton clinked as she picked it up—the sound of glass bottles hitting one another—and she raised her eyebrows in suspicion. She opened the door to the wardrobe and found several more similarly sized cartons along its floor. Wanting to get a better look, Constance reached up to push the girl's hanging clothes to the side, when suddenly, she froze. Squinting, she pushed uniforms and jumpers aside to reveal something black, fraying, and... familiar. Constance felt her heart quicken; she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm it. The worn, faded black dress was indeed something she knew. She studied the intricate embroidery and lace, running a finger along the fraying, high collar. As her hand brushed the material Constance felt a flash of a vivid memory, then a wave of nausea. She ripped the frock off the hanger and shakily began to open the buttons down the back. Peeling back the fabric, her eyes combed the inside, searching for... the nametag. And there it was: "Lily Nightflight" was scrawled, in a very familiar handwriting, on a small patch of fabric carefully sewn onto the inside of the dress. Constance swallowed, trying to suppress the nausea that was steadily rising within her. Her lungs tried to keep up with the air she felt she needed to intake. Hand trembling, she raised her spell casting fingers and pointed at the patch. The thread around it began to unravel, allowing the patch to partially fall away. Hidden beneath Lily's nametag was another patch of fabric, yellowed slightly with age; scrawled upon it in the very same handwriting was the name "Constance Hardbroom."

"Miss Hardbroom!?" Constance's eyes shot up to the source of the confused voice as it materialised in front of her. Lily Nightflight appeared in front of her teacher, arms folded, mouth ajar.

The sheer shock of it all was too much for her to handle, and Lily watched the deputy headmistress's eyes roll back and flutter closed as her body collapsed to the floor.

* * *

**A/N: So, thoughts? Please let me know what you think below!**


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